Letting Go
by ThinAsADime
Summary: George takes it the hardest when Fred dies, and it shows in his everyday life. I do not own Harry Potter.


A/N: Original character, though a name is not mentioned. Sex! Also, as I'm sure you are aware I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with Harry Potter. Thank you for reading, please do review! Thank you so much.

*FGWFGWFGW*

I walked down the hall, my arms crossed. When I stepped into the room, and my eyes met his, I couldn't help but pause. God, he was handsome, even with tears streaking his face. He nodded, feigning strength, and I tucked my hair behind my ear as the tears began to threaten to fall.

I crossed the room in a few steps and he held out his arms for me to nestle myself into. I looked down to tuck my head into his chest and noticed briefly as my black dress swayed across my legs. And then we cried.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came over and wrapped their arms around us, comforting us. We released one another and then George kissed the top of my head and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said back, nudging him in the side a little. His suit looked nice, it was fancy and loud, just as Fred would have liked it.

The family was gathered around the casket, quiet and mourning, trying hard to keep a straight face whenever they saw George. They knew he had lost the most, because he had lost his real other half, his best friend. Of course, in the small poorly-lit room, the sadness couldn't escape, and George felt it tenfold. "I think," he said, clearing his throat, "I should probably go." He looked at Fred one more time, and I could see him contemplating. Fred looked as if he could have been asleep, his face effortlessly soft and colorful. I knew this was from some mortician's steady, skilled hand, but if I put that aside in my head, I could almost see him breathing.

"Alright, dear," Molly said, reaching out to squeeze George's hand. I looked up at him, and he took a shaky breath.

"Night guys," he said, referring to the entire room. He took my hand and we walked out together.

*FGWFGW*

"Do you remember," I asked, plucking my shoes from my heels with my toes, "when Fred kissed me?"

George looked off to the side for a second, collecting his thoughts. "Yes, I do. You said he tasted like… strawberries? That's how you knew it wasn't me. Though, I suppose even now it makes me a little curious, were you crushing on him or me in school?" He threw a small smile in my direction.

"Probably both of you," I admitted honestly, "Because you are both amazing. You are both so funny and spectacular and genuine."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You mean _'were'." _

I sighed, too. "Yeah, I suppose I do. George, I love you."

"I love you, too."

He walked across our tiny living room and plopped down on the couch. I went over and sat next to him, and rested my head on his shoulder. "Hey, so what do you want for dinner? Are you hungry?"

"I can't exactly be hungry, now, can I?"

"Why not? You have to be. I'm starving."

"Alright, how about some pizza?"

"Sounds good to me."

I got up to order the pizza and George pulled off his jacket and shoes. When I got back into the living room, he was leaning on his arm, looking happy.

"What's up, buttercup?" I said with a grin.

"Nothing, just thinking about Fred. I'm going to miss him."

"I'm going to miss him, too."

"Come here." He motioned with his hands and so I leaned forward and he kissed me. "What do I taste like?" he asked, curious. I had never told him the exact flavor he was to me, but it was delicious.

"Well, if I tell you, you have to keep it between us."

He laughed. "Who am I going to tell?"

"Alright. You taste like peach yogurt."

"Peach yogurt?" he asked, confused.

"Well, yes. It's my favorite flavor. When I discovered you tasted like peach yogurt, I most certainly had to have you. Probably more so than I did before I knew how you tasted."

After a moment of what seemed like deep thought, George asked, "What if I would have tasted like strawberries?"

"Then that would have been my favorite flavor, I'm sure."

George nodded and grinned, though his eyes and thoughts were elsewhere.

*FGWFGW*

I woke up in the middle of the night to an extreme thirst caused by the salty pizza I had ingested only hours before. I yawned as I searched the fridge for something to douse my thirst and then chugged an entire water bottle in a matter of seconds once I finally found one.

I went back to the bedroom and settled into bed when I noticed the warmth of someone very familiar to my heart was missing. "George?" I whispered as I sat up, wondering where he was. My eyes searched the dark room, and when I finally found the lamp with my shaking hands, he said, "no, don't turn it on."

"George! You scared me!" His voice was distant.

Instead of answering me, his lips were suddenly on my own and his arms were wrapped tight around me.

To my surprise, when our tongues met, he tasted like strawberry. "Fr-" I nearly gasped, stopping myself just quickly enough.

"What?" George asked, pressing his forehead to mine, a smile on his lips.

"You taste just like… Fred."

"I know," he said, cupping my face in his hands. "Right before he died he said to me, 'Georgie, I'd really like to steal a kiss from that lovely lady of yours one more time.' And I just laughed, and said, 'you can, just once, I will promise you that.'"

"You promised your brother he could kiss me?" I asked, smiling faintly. They were so silly, so young, so free.

"Yes. I know, I'm sorry, but I had to fulfill it somehow. So, just pretend I'm him, and kiss me like I'm Fred."

"George, I don't think I can do that…" I said quietly.

He took a deep breath. "Just… just try. For me?"

"Okay. " So I closed my eyes and the darkness flooded me again. His lips let mine, and for a moment I forgot he was George at all. My body settled into the bed, his lips enclosing my mouth expertly.

He kissed my neck with soft butterfly kisses. "Fred," I moaned, completely lost in the moment.

"Mmm," he muttered, bringing his mouth back up to mine. The overwhelming taste of strawberries invigorated me, and I couldn't help but kiss back with even more passion.

He yanked my panties down to my ankles and slid himself roughly between my thighs. I grabbed onto his neck, hard. "Oh god, Fred," I gasped aloud as he rammed himself into me.

He yanked my leg up and kissed me hard. Eventually he picked me up and threw me up against the wall, kissing me and touching me perfectly. I arched into him and moaned.

We came at the same time, a harsh scream of "Fred!" escaping my lips. He smiled when it was over, and kissed my neck.

"You were his best friend," George said, "and he loved you."

I nodded, tears forming again. "I loved him, too. He was my comfort when you couldn't be around."

George set me back on the bed gently and then laid down next to me. I slid my panties back on and then looked into his eyes. He took my hands and we just laid like that for a long while.

Then next time I opened my eyes, George was gone out of bed and in his place was a note. "I've gone for chocolate, ice cream, and ramen. You know what day it is, right? I love you; George."

*FGWFGW*

It was the day of our monthly "date" with Fred, where we would sit and eat the three aforementioned foods and watch movies all day. It was our catch up day.

George sat down on the couch and cuddled up next to me. "Hey."

"Hey," I said. Then I turned to the empty seat next to me and said, "Hi Fred."

George smiled. "Fred, we miss you. We love you so much. We hope you're happy. Cheers." He took a huge bite of ice cream and I did the same.

And then we turned on "The Notebook" because it was my month to pick the first movie, and I cried incredibly hard, and then I realized how hard it really was going to be to let go.

It would have been Fred's turn to pick the second movie, and so instead of watching anything, we sat for an hour and a half, making jokes about the black screen and talking about people we were making up in our heads. Fred would have loved it.

Half way through George's pick, he got up and went to our bedroom. I followed quietly behind and discovered him hugging a picture of his twin. I wrapped my arms around him and he looked at me, completely lost.

"What am I going to do?" he whispered.

I sighed. "I honestly don't know, George."

He nodded and put the picture aside. "Freddie," he said, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I love you."

And then we stood, not knowing exactly where we were going, but making the trip forward and outside anyway, because if we didn't we would have lost ourselves.


End file.
